The Lie of a Designer Life
But that illusion shattered when Nolan sabotaged a 0-000 million deal over a cocktail waitress. As I scrambled to clean up his mess, I overheard his friends in the next room.
"Does your perfect wife really think a couture dress can hide where she came from?" one mocked.
Then I heard Nolan's laugh—cold and knowing. He had always known I was a fraud.
And so, it turned out, was he.
1
Standing outside that door, a gaping hole tore open in my chest.
“I heard her deadbeat dad just got out of prison,” someone mused. “Let’s make a bet. I say three months, tops, before he shows up begging for money. That’s when Mrs. Vance’s carefully crafted high-society image is going to come crashing down.”
“I’ll bet one month!” Leo declared. “That whole Oxford story was a nice touch, I’ll give her that. But you can’t hide the poverty in your bones. Have you seen the way she cuts a steak? Like she’s murdering an enemy, terrified of using the wrong form. It’s hysterical.”
Nolan’s voice, calm and detached, cut through their laughter.
“I’ll bet… a year. She has too much pride. She’ll do anything to keep the lie going, probably try to ship her father back to whatever hellhole he came from. He won’t be a problem in the short term.”
He sighed, a sound of weary calculation.
“My mother was trying to force me to marry that pig-headed idiot from the Harrison Group. Obviously, I refused. Stella was a convenient alternative. She’s poor, yes, but she’s smart. I needed someone smart to run interference with my parents. While they were busy dealing with her, they’d leave me alone.” He paused. “And watching her try so hard to be elegant every day… it has its own brand of amusement.”
The blood in my veins turned to ice.
He knew. Nolan knew everything. My relentless effort, the life I had painstakingly built—it was all just a joke to him. A private, pathetic circus act.
The room erupted in another round of laughter. Suddenly, Nolan shushed them.
Through the crack in the door, I saw a girl. She was curled up on the leather sofa behind him, fast asleep, cocooned in his custom-tailored jacket. She stirred, and Nolan immediately silenced the room.
“Keep it down. Don’t wake her. She was working all night. She’s exhausted.”
Leo clicked his tongue. “Honestly, Nolan. She’s a nobody from the middle of nowhere. What do you even see in her?”
Nolan propped his chin on his hand, his gaze softening as he watched the girl sleep.
“Compared to Stella’s fake elegance, I prefer something real. A thirty-dollar t-shirt looks beautiful on her. And the way she carries herself, without a trace of insecurity or apology… that’s what I find captivating.”
Just then, the girl rolled over and woke up. She sat up, dazed and disoriented. “How did I fall asleep…?”
She carefully folded the jacket and handed it back to Nolan. “Mr. Vance, thank you again for paying for my brother’s surgery. I swear, I’ll pay you back every penny…”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I insist.” She bit her lip, her expression full of stubborn pride. “I don’t want to owe anyone anything.”
A slow smile spread across Nolan’s face. He reached out and gently tapped the tip of her nose, his touch impossibly tender. “Alright, alright, you win. In that case, how about you come work for me? Be my assistant. I’ll pay you fifty thousand a month.”
Her eyes lit up. “But… I never even finished high school. I don’t know anything…”
“Don’t worry about that. You’re smart. You’ll be great.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.
A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced my heart. Nolan Vance’s executive assistant. That position used to be mine. The job posting had explicitly stated the minimum requirement was an Ivy League degree.
My background was a lie, but my education was real. I had spent months preparing for that interview. I knew Nolan had a branch in Paris and traveled there often. Terrified he’d find me lacking, I’d thrown myself into French lessons and etiquette classes, running from one tutor to the next.
And all of it, in his eyes, meant nothing.
For the first time, I understood. You didn’t have to be brilliant to stand beside him. You just had to be… her.
Nolan gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “For my assistant,” he said softly, “a high school education is more than enough.”
A shy smile bloomed on Tress’s face.
Outside the door, my limbs went numb. I stumbled back to my own private room, my legs threatening to give out. The business partner, Mr. Peterson, was still there, determined to make me suffer. He poured a glass, a toxic mix of whiskey and something clear that burned the air.
“Mrs. Vance, you drink this, and the issue between me and your husband is forgotten.” He gave me a lewd, knowing smile.
I remembered the last time I’d done this for Nolan. I’d drunk so much I ended up in the emergency room with a bleeding stomach, nearly dying on the operating table.
I wasn’t going to be that stupid again.
I took the glass, and in one smooth motion, poured its contents onto the expensive carpet.
“Mr. Peterson,” I said, my voice steady. “Your business with my husband is your own. I have other matters to attend to.”
I walked out of the restaurant like a zombie and went back to the Vance mansion.
Nolan’s mother was seated before a small shrine in the sitting room, her eyes closed in meditation. She heard me enter but didn’t even bother to look up.
“The luncheon with the foundation board is tomorrow. Have you finalized the seating chart?” she asked, her voice cold. “Also, the ancestral rites are next month. I had the butler email you the travel itineraries for your uncles. You are to personally arrange their transport. We brought you into this family to be our public face, Stella. These duties must be performed flawlessly. Otherwise, what’s the difference between marrying you and some illiterate trash from the slums?”
Gutter trash. The words were a fresh stab to an open wound.
I stood silently in the doorway, then turned and started up the stairs.
“Stop! Are you deaf? Or have your manners completely deserted you?”
I paused at the landing but didn’t turn back. “Find someone else,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m tired.”
A torrent of venomous words followed me up the stairs, but I tuned them out. I slammed my bedroom door shut, the sound a final, satisfying crack that silenced the world.
Memories flooded back. The first time I ever saw Nolan Vance. I was a college student, working as a waitress at a gala to pay my tuition. It was my first, terrifying glimpse into the world of the elite. I was so scared, so out of place.
I accidentally spilled a glass of champagne on a guest. The woman exploded in fury. Her hand shot out, grabbing me by the throat and shoving me to the floor. She kicked me twice, hard, in the ribs. Pain shot through my body, leaving me trembling.
“You little beggar!” she shrieked. “Do you have any idea what this gown is? It’s custom-made by an Italian designer! It costs seven figures—more money than your kind will ever see in a lifetime!”
I knelt on the floor like a dog, my hands clasped, begging for forgiveness. She slapped me, and the sting of it mixed with my tears, blurring my vision into a smear of red.
Then Nolan stepped in.
“It’s just a dress,” he said, his voice light as air. “Is it really necessary to terrorize the girl?”
The check he wrote was signed with a hand that was long, elegant, and impossibly beautiful. I can still see it. My heart hammered in my chest. For the first time, I felt the chasm of class that separated my world from his. I was a student at a prestigious university, but because of where I came from, I was nothing more than an ant to be crushed under their feet.
But I didn’t want to be an ant. I wanted to be the master of my own life. I wanted that beautiful life, and I wanted the man standing before me.
In that moment, a dangerous cocktail of ambition and desire gave birth to an audacious plan. I would fake a past. I would weave a web of lies. All I wanted was an admission ticket to their world. A chance to stand next to him.
And in the end, I did it.
Only to discover it was all just a game to him. He didn’t love the brilliant woman I had become. He was captivated by a cocktail waitress who never finished high school. All because she was real.
What a fucking joke.
I picked up my phone and called my lawyer. I told him to draft the divorce papers.
It was time to end this.
I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Nolan didn’t come home until after midnight. I could hear my mother-in-law’s muffled complaints from the living room before he came upstairs. He smelled faintly of citrus, the same scent that clung to the girl.
“Mom said you were rude to her today,” he said, undoing his tie. “Go down and apologize later.”
I didn’t move.
He gently tapped my shoulder. “What’s wrong, honey? You seem upset.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. The same gentle touch, but now it felt like ice.
“I’m fine,” I managed, struggling to keep my voice even. “Just not feeling well.”
“By the way, how did things go with Peterson?”
“Not well.”
He paused. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We can afford to lose the deal. I don’t want you to be put in that position.”
I almost laughed. I wanted to ask him who, exactly, he didn’t want to see get hurt. But the words died in my throat.
“Okay,” I whispered.
I didn’t sleep a wink.
The next day at the office, the girl had already started. Her name was Tress. She was even prettier, more innocent-looking, than she had been in the private room.
She was also completely incompetent.
During the morning meeting, she couldn’t even figure out how to operate the slideshow. Her meeting notes were a chaotic mess. Nolan was notoriously strict with his employees, a ruthless perfectionist.
But with Tress, he was endlessly patient.
I held my tongue until the meeting was over. When I went to Nolan’s office to discuss a new project, Tress was there to serve tea. Her hand slipped, and a stream of scalding water splashed onto my wrist, instantly raising a cluster of blisters. The project files on the desk were soaked.
I finally snapped. “What is wrong with you?”
She slammed the teapot down, her face a mask of defiant stubbornness.
“Aren’t you going to apologize?” I asked, my voice calm.
My composure seemed to enrage her. “It was an accident! Why are you being so aggressive? You think you can bully me just because you have money?”
Nolan watched her, a look of pure admiration in his eyes. This was the unapologetic defiance he found so captivating?
Before I could say another word, he took my hand. “She’s young, Stella. No work experience. Let me apologize to you on her behalf, okay?”
My heart stuttered. I pulled my hand away.
The matter was dropped.
After we finished discussing work, I was about to leave when Nolan cleared his throat. “I have a dinner meeting tonight. You should go home, don’t wait up for me.”
I knew him too well. He always coughed twice before he lied.
“Okay.”
Back in my office, I found Tress’s social media profile through the HR database. As expected, around 8 p.m., she posted an update.
A photo of her and Nolan.
They were at a cheap, roadside diner, a table laden with spicy, messy food between them. And two plastic cups from a corner lemonade stand. This was a man who only drank single-origin Yemeni coffee. Now he was drinking four-dollar lemonade.
I scrolled through her feed. Almost every post was about him.
[My 20th birthday! Mr. Vance bought me my very first pair of high heels! (But I still like my sneakers better hehe)]
[Took the big CEO to a hole-in-the-wall for the first time. He looked so serious eating, but he still peeled my crawfish for me!]
The more I looked, the tighter the knot in my chest became. Just then, my phone buzzed. A text from an anonymous number.
My heart seized. It was my father. The one I’d just heard was out of prison.
[Stella. Help your dad out. You think you can just cut me off now that you’ve made it big?]
[I’ll drag you back down into the mud with me!]
[Don’t forget how you got into the Vance family. Give me five million, and I’ll keep your little secret.]
I didn’t reply. My hand trembled as I deleted the message. I thought of the bet Nolan and his friends had made. The bet on how long it would take for my world to implode.
My father was a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later, he would detonate.
But I was done living in fear.
This time, I would be the one to light the fuse.
Nolan came home at dawn the next day, mumbling a lazy excuse about an all-night business meeting. But I’d already seen it on Tress’s feed. There was no meeting. He’d spent the night with her, driving out of the city to some remote hill to watch the stars, and then the sunrise.
My mother-in-law’s sharp voice cut through the morning quiet. “The annual family banquet is approaching. Stella, it’s time for you to start the preparations.”
It was the most important event of the year for the Vance clan, a gathering of every direct and extended relative.
“When is it?” I asked, my voice hollow.
“The twentieth.”
My phone buzzed again. Another threat from my father.
[You little bitch! If you don’t answer, I’m coming to your house!]
I hesitated for only a second before typing a reply.
[You want money? Come to the Vance estate on the twentieth of this month. I’ll be waiting.]
The days crawled by. The closer it got to the twentieth, the more the world seemed to split in two.
Tress’s social media was a daily diary of her fairytale romance. Nolan skipping work to visit her grandmother in the countryside. Nolan spending a weekend with her, dressed in a goofy mascot costume, handing out flyers on the street. The two of them squatting on a curb, sharing a three-dollar hot dog.
Every photo was a poisoned needle, driving deeper into my heart.
My father’s texts continued unabated, each one more vile than the last. He called me a whore, a toad trying to eat swan meat. He said I was born for the gutter and that’s where I would die.
The locked doors in my mind burst open. Memories I had buried clawed their way out. Him, drunk and raging, beating me until I was covered in bruises. Forcing me to get on all fours and bark like a dog. Tying me up with a rope and hanging me from the rafters.
My head felt like it was going to explode. The pain was so intense I could barely breathe. I dug my nails into my palms until they bled, clenching my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would crack, just to stay sane.
The twentieth was almost here.
Money couldn’t save me. The beautiful, fragile dream couldn’t save me. If I was going to crawl out of this swamp for good, I had to do it myself.
The day of the banquet arrived.
Nolan’s car was waiting downstairs. When I pulled open the passenger door, I found Tress sitting there.
“I’m just showing the kid what this world looks like,” Nolan explained casually. He then glanced at Tress. “You should sit in the back. The front seat is for my wife.”
Tress bit her lip and tugged on his sleeve. “Mr. Vance, I get carsick… I’ll throw up if I sit in the back.”
And just like that, he softened. “Stella, would you mind…?”
Without a word, I opened the back door and got in.
The ride to the old family estate was silent and suffocating. Tress looked exactly like I had on my first night in this world—timid, overwhelmed, and completely out of her depth.
But she was luckier than I had been. Nolan hovered over her like a mother hen, protecting her. When one of his cousins tried to ask her for a drink, a single withering glare from Nolan sent him scurrying away.
“Bro, you’re already married,” the cousin teased later. “You planning on making her wife number two?”
Nolan shot him a dark look. “And what if I am?” he retorted, then immediately flicked his eyes toward me, checking my reaction.
I didn’t care anymore.
I just watched the antique clock on the wall, counting down the minutes.
Finally, the butler hurried into the room, his face pale. He kept glancing nervously in my direction. “There’s… an uninvited guest at the gate,” he stammered. “He says he’s here to see… the young madam.”
My voice was calm. “Let him in.”
The man who entered was my father. His face was a roadmap of hard living, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wore a tattered camouflage jacket and worn-out work boots, the soles peeling away from the leather. Nolan, having investigated my past, knew exactly who he was.
“Get him out of here!” he snapped, signaling for security.
“Don’t,” I said, stopping them.
“…What are you doing?” Nolan’s voice was a low hiss.
I looked him straight in the eye. “I brought him here today to tell you all the truth.”
The color drained from his face. He tried to stop me, but it was too late.
“My entire identity is a lie,” I announced to the silent, stunned room. “My parents are not university professors. I’m not an heiress. I’m the daughter of a gambler. I’ve never even been to Europe. It was all a lie to deceive you.”
A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the crowd. My mother-in-law looked like she was having a stroke, her body trembling with rage. “Have you lost your mind?” she shrieked.
“No, Mother. It’s all true. If you don’t believe me, ask your son. Nolan knows everything. He knew from the very beginning that I was a fake. He watched me play my part, pretending to be a socialite, clawing my way into your family.”
I turned to Nolan, a smile twisting my lips. It felt more painful than crying. “I lied to you, and you lied to me. I suppose that makes us even, doesn’t it?”
Before he could answer, my father spat on the floor. “Stella, are you fucking done yet? Save your drama for later and give me the money!”
I turned to face him, my gaze locking onto his. “There is no money,” I said, each word a stone. “Not a single cent. Now that they know the truth, you have nothing left to threaten me with. I’m not afraid of you anymore. You come near me again, and I swear to God, we’ll both go down together.”
I pulled out the knife I’d hidden in my purse and pointed it at him.
The room exploded into chaos. For the first time in my life, I saw fear in my father’s eyes. He stammered a few curses but didn’t dare raise his voice. The butler and security guards swarmed in and dragged him out.
Silence fell, thick and heavy, broken only by frantic whispers.
“Everyone, be quiet,” Nolan commanded, his voice dark with fury. He rounded on me, his eyes like a predator’s. “Stella, you did this on purpose. What the hell do you want?”
I toyed with the knife in my hand. The blade was sharp. It slipped, slicing a thin, deep line across my palm. Blood welled up, dark and red.
“I used to dream of your world,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “I was willing to lie and cheat just to taste it. But now that I have, all I feel is… empty. There’s no sense of belonging in a world where you don’t belong. And I’m tired. The magic is gone. I just want it to be over.”
I looked him in the eye. “Let’s get a divorce, Nolan. I’m done being the cricket in your cage.”
I pulled the diamond ring from my finger. It was slick with blood. I threw it onto the marble floor. It landed with a sharp, clean clatter.
His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped. “Divorce?” he hissed. “After all your lies, you think you can just walk away? You’ll get nothing. Not a penny. I suggest you think this through.”
“I already have.” I took the signed divorce papers from my purse and held them out to him.
He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with rage. He snatched the papers and ripped them to shreds.
“You’re not thinking clearly. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.”
“I am perfectly calm. And I want a divorce.” I met his furious gaze, my own unwavering. “No matter what, Nolan. It’s over.”
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